


Concrete Beneath My Feet

by CadetDru



Series: Stare Straight At The Sun [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fallen Angels, Gen, Holy Water, The Arrangement (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-07-28 12:16:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20063875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru
Summary: Aziraphale will walk, thank you.





	Concrete Beneath My Feet

Aziraphale got out of Crowley's car, making a point to walk away. He hated Crowley's driving. He was going to hurt someone some day. If Aziraphale was there, then he could fix it. If Crowley was alone, then he would fix it himself. Crowley was still a good angel, if not a Good Angel any longer, technically speaking. 

There was no earthly reason why Crowley shouldn't be forgiven, except for the simple and terrible fact that he couldn't be forgiven. Aziraphale was the nice one, but not the good one. There had been many times where Crowley had been much better. Aziraphale wanted him to be redeemed, if Aziraphale didn't fall. He wanted them to be on the same side, beyond being on their shared but still individual side. Now Crowley had a thermos of holy water, and Aziraphale had nothing but fear.

Aziraphale had felt a bit of dread handling the holy water. Just planning to give it to Crowley seemed like it would be enough for Aziraphale to finally Fall himself. Finally Fall. It had been a long time coming. He didn't realize how long he had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. He tried to be as Good as Good could be. Even with his Arrangement with Crowley, he was still endeavoring to increase the net Good in the world.

If it was a suicide pill, he wanted to take it away. If Crowley was dedicated to having it, Aziraphale had no choice but to help.

Crowley was still sitting in his car. Aziraphale refused to look, but he knew it was true. Crowley wasn't coming after him. 

Aziraphale knew what Crowley did, and he heard about it from other people. He cultivated a network. He'd reach out to those Crowley abandoned as he abandoned the plan. He'd add them to his own contacts, get information out of them as he tried to keep an eye on Crowley and his movement. He couldn't let Crowley go unsupervised. He needed Crowley to be safe.

He had found them all, found the people who had referred them to Crowley. He made his careful overtures, hid his intentions as best he could. Every last one of them was convinced he was in love with Crowley, that he was too interested in him. Every last one of them took some kind of pity on him, or wanted to help him in his hopeless quest. They weren't completely wrong. Aziraphale did love Crowley, as he loved all angels.

He was walking his way to a shady little pub, to have a pint with the latest man who had come into Crowley's sphere.

"Are ye a witch?" Lance Corporal Shadwell asked, drinking his beer.

"Not at all," Aziraphale said, rightly affronted. "I am a bookshop owner. Anyone can vouch for me. Even Mr. Crowley." He still didn't like the full name Crowley (who had been Crawly, who would remain Crawly to Aziraphale) had adopted.

"A bookshop owner turning over good money to watch a dark and mysterious man."

"It is good money," Aziraphale said. "From the sale of good books."

"Is he a witch?"

"He's a reckless driver," Aziraphale said. "He drives like a bat out of hell."

"I'll keep an eye on him."

"Not too much," Aziraphale said. "Just let me know if he looks into anything more to do with churches." He handed over an envelope of cash. "And any car trouble that he might have."


End file.
